


A Hobbit in Laketown

by PhantomLass



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Girl Bilbo, No Bilbo in the company, Shocked Dwarves, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomLass/pseuds/PhantomLass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dwarves climb into Bard's house and find something they weren't expecting. A one-shot (for the moment) FemBilbo/Bard story. Girl Bilbo. (movie Bard)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Toilet

The Dwarves clambered from the toilet, trailing lake water after them and grumbling to themselves and each other over their situation.

This whole quest had been nothing but one indignity after the next. Wouldn't it ever end?

"Da?" a confused voice asked somewhere above them, "Why are there Dwarves climbing out of our toilet?"

"Will they bring us luck?" a younger voice piped up, sounding ridiculously chirpy and they glanced up to see a fair haired young girl peering around the side of an older girl.

"No more so than if they had walked through the front door like proper guests should, sweetheart," a stern voice sounded from somewhere nearby. "Now come away girls and help me find some clothes, please,"

The girls vanished in the direction of the voice and the company exchanged looks and Bard, who had been helping the Dwarves by grabbing at their clothes and forcibly dragging them from the water, beckoned for them to follow him. There was a smile on his face, the first proper smile they had seen since he had told them he wouldn't drown them on the lake, but this was softer, warmer.

"My wife," he explained as they followed him into what they assumed was the main room of the house.

"There is a fire in the hearth," all eyes shot towards the voice.

At first it would be easy to confuse the creature before them as another human child, far younger than the others in the room giving her size, but her face and body held the maturity of a woman. The next thought was that she was a Dwarf, but her hairless face put pains to that idea. Then, one by one they eyes travelled from her face, down the length of her body (most definitely a woman, there was nothing childish about that figure) to her feet.

Larger than necessary bare feet with a sprinkling of hair upon the top sent their eyes wide.

A Hobbit! They had travelled to the shadow of Erebor and found a Hobbit.

"Really Bard," she crossed her arms over her chest and for such a small being she painted the finest image of maternal severity any of them had ever seen, "When you told us you would bring a surprise back with you I thought maybe a rabbit for a bit of variety at dinner. Thirteen Dwarves was not what I had in mind,"

The same thought was crossing the mind of each of the company. They may be standing soaking wet but they were glad they were not Bard – for all of his dry clothes – at the moment.

The bargeman looked away from his wife and pointed towards the hearth.

"Fire," he informed them sharply.

Taking that for the hint it was - although they wouldn't have minded watching the Man face his tiny enraged wife – they trudged to the fire with squelching boots and dripping clothes. They all remained silent however, more than happy to overhear any titbits that might drift from the kitchen area of the home. It turned out that they could here every word. It was a small house.

"Really Bard, you are hardly in the Masters good graces as it is. If he finds out about this-"

They had forgotten about the presence of the three children until the smallest of the threes voice brought them back to their attention.

"Do you think Ma will make Da sleep in the barge again?" she queried with the innocence of youth as she paused in her study of the contents of a chest of cloth.

"Of course not," the elder sister answered with all the conviction of being older if not wiser, and then she frowned, "At least, I don't think so, she isn't angry enough,"

Gloin and Bombur – the only two married Dwarves in the company – exchanged looks. They too had been on the wrong side of their wives tempers at one point or the other during their married lives. It was a cold place to be.

"What, if we may ask, was the severity of your father's transgression to warrant such a punishment?" Balin asked. Secretly all of the company was thankful for his question as they too were curious as to what the Bargeman could have possibly done that could rank worse than showing up with thirteen Dwarves.

The children exchanged looks and when the older girl shrugged it was the boy who answered.

"He came home singing drunk," he announced.

Was that all?

"Indeed," Balin replied, quirking an eyebrow in the direction of the kitchen where the husband and wife were still in conversation.

All the company thought the same thing.

Bard was destined for worse places than the barge for a night.

"Yip, woke us all up with some Elven love song,"

Och well, now that they were in possession of all the fact he obviously deserved to be sent off to the barge in disgrace. Everyone knew the Elves didn't have one decent wooing song in their repertoire.

"Mother told him that if he was so thirsty as all of that he could sleep on the barge and imbibe in some river water and not come home until he was sober,"

"That happen often with your Pa does it?" Bofur asked, squeezing water from his hat into a plant pot perched on a small table by the fire.

"Nope. Never again," the boy smiled.

This earned a chuckle from the company and looks of empathy flashed towards the kitchen from Bombur and Gloin.

That was the end of the conversation and silence fell among them once again. The Dwarves hoped to hear more from the kitchen but the conversation seemed to have died down and one by one they gave into their curiosity and turned to face the kitchen.

The Hobbit was standing on a stool - that she obviously needed to comfortable reach the table surfaces – while Bard stood to the side of her, his hip leaning against the long table. He was just watching his wife.

They couldn't tell what she was doing as her back was to them but her arms were moving at a furious pace.

They were about to begin speaking again when the little woman spoke.

"I suppose I will have to throw some extra bits into the pot as we will be eighteen for dinner now," she was speaking to the table top but they could hear her clearly and the bowman moved from his space beside her.

His much larger frame eclipsed hers as he stood behind her and wrapped his arms about her.

"You, my love, are an angel," the Dwarves heard the snort that came as a reply from the Hobbit.

"Well at least they are of a more sensible size as far as guests go," the Hobbits tone had lost its sternness of before and now sounded more playful, "Nothing like you lanky men,"

With that she appeared again from in front of Bard and came into the room before any of them had the chance to plant their eyes anywhere else.

"Now gentlemen, I beg your pardons for the less than warm welcome,"

"Och no worry –"

"Understandable-"

"Right then, lets see if we can find you something to wear and then you can all stop leaving puddles over my floor, hmm,"


	2. Bed Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sings a lullaby and fluffiness ensues.

The company were now all warm and dry and all had a full stomach of the best stick-to-your-ribs stew any of them had ever tried – even Bombur’s endless appetite had been satisfied. In the place of chicken, beef or even rabbit, there had been hearty chunks of fish amongst the carrots, peas and potatoes without even a sniff of a stray bone. After the way things had been going the past few weeks it was like a banquet. It was true that Thranduil had not held back on feeding them during their time in his dungeons but knowing who had provided the food had caused it to stick in their throats more often than not and none of them had enjoyed it, only eating enough to keep up their strength. This simple meal was like a feast.

 

They had watched as the Hobbit had dashed from kitchen to table again and again, making plates and bowls appear from small cupboards as if by magic while Bard moved around her with effortless ease. It was a dance between them, graceful and practiced.

 

Balin had heaped thanks and praise upon the mistress of the house for the hearty meal and she had blushed prettily while cleaning up and sending the children off to prepare for bed.

 

Silence fell among the company, helped by the lethargy brought by full bellies and they easily picked up on the quick exchange between the Bargeman and his wife.

 

“The girls can sleep with me tonight, that will free up two beds,” the Hobbit was informing her husband, “You and Bain can share his room,”

 

“Bilbo-“

 

Bard was not given the opportunity to finish but they could tell that he was not keen on being separated from him wife for the night.

 

“I have no clean sheets for the beds, I hope they don’t mind,” the Hobbit fretted.

 

“They were bobbing down the river half drowned not too long ago, love,” Bard assured his wife, they could hear the smile in his voice, “I am sure they won’t mind sleeping on your day-old spotless sheets,”

 

“Oh, you,” came the annoyed but loving huff from the woman.

 

There was a pause and they could imagine the Man leaning down to kiss his small wife.

* * *

 

The mistress of the house had done quick work of setting up sleeping pallets throughout the room before going to see to the children with a promise to return shortly and ensure they had everything they needed.

 

Soon the soothing tones of a lullaby drifted to them and the Bargeman who had been moving between the kitchen and the small room adjoining – following his petite wife like a guarding shadow most of the evening – stilled and went to stand by the door leading to the rooms where his wife had vanished.

 

The Dwarves froze at the soft words that filtered to them.

 

 _“_ _The King beneath the mountains,_

_The King of carven stone. The lord of silver fountains_

_Shall come into his own,_ ”

 

All eyes swung to Thorin who sat as stoic as ever, his face a careful blank, his eyes staring at the far wall.

“ _His crown shall be upholden,_

_His harp shall be restrung, His halls shall echo golden_

_To songs of yore re-sung._ ”

 

Was this a song about them? About Thorin reclaiming the Mountain from the Dragon? Just how long had it been it spoken or sung by the people of Laketown?

“ _The woods shall wave on mountains_

_And grass beneath the sun; His wealth shall flow in fountains_

_And the rivers golden run._ ”

 

They had given very little thought to the plight of the men of Dale over the years, too caught up in their own struggles and as they looked around the room they could not hold the Bargeman’s insistences on payment against him. Wood everywhere, not a whiff of masonry work to be seen. They shivered to think how often the beams beneath the water must need to be replaced to prevent them from rotting.

 

“ _The streams shall run in gladness,_

_The lakes shall shine and burn, All sorrow fail and sadness_

_At the Mountain-king's return!_ ”

 

Perhaps, just perhaps, they would be welcomed after all once all was done.

 

Perhaps…

 

A sleepy mumble, belonging to the youngest girl drifted to them now as she begged her mother for the lullaby to be repeated

 

"Not tonight, love, we have guests to see too," came the gentle reply,

 

The squeaking of a door being pushed too and the deep voice of Bard broke them from their reverie. He was blocking any sight they might have had of the small woman but from the way he was leaning forward it was clear that she had come from the room and was standing in front of him.

 

“What do you think, my love? Would you care for a lake of jewels?”

 

The Hobbit scoffed loudly at the Bargeman’s words.

 

“Fish cannot swim through gold or breathe mithril. What would we eat?”

 

“My Bilbo, ever the practical thinker,” the man sighed in exasperation and they could see the back of his head shake from side to side.

 

“Mmm, but you love me anyway,”

 

There was a breathy giggle from the woman followed by a moments silence before Bard’s rough tones drifted to them again.

 

“Aye, I do my Bilbo,”

 

Gloin and Bombur were both sitting with matching grins as they listened to the exchange, thinking of their own wives, safe at home. They were nearly at the mountain now and would be able to send for them soon.

 

“Bard,” the woman sounded concerned now, the amusement gone, her voice soft and reassuring, “I am happy. We have a good life here and we want for nothing. You make sure of that,”

 

The Dwarves looked around the small home, hardly large enough to accommodate thirteen Dwarves and a family of five. It was clean and tidy with a homey feel to it and despite the smell of the water that hung outside the rooms smelled of lavender and other plants that hung from the ceiling and sat in wooden cups – splintered and useless for holding liquid but adequate for the purpose of keeping the dried stems together.

 

“I would give you the world if I could,” the man’s voice was soft, barely perceptible over the soft lapping of the water beneath the floor.

 

They felt like they were intruding on something private as they listened into the intimate conversation between the Bargeman and his wife. But there was nothing they could do now. After all, if they were to all suddenly begin chatting it would draw more attention than their silence.

 

They could turn away but their attention was caught as the man leaned down and a small arm encircled his shoulder. Pale, slim fingers threaded through his hair and drew his head further down.

 

“I have you and I have the children, I do not need the world, or a lake of jewels and gold,”

 

They could not see what was happening but they could imagine the gentle creature’s forehead pressed to her husbands in affection.

 

They didn’t have much opportunity to expound on what could be happening out of their sight as the man was released from the gentle hold and straightened.

 

All eyes immediately found something or other in the room fascinating to focus on.

 

Except for the younger members of the company. Their heads were together in a way that would have caused panic to rise in the chests of their elders if they weren’t so busy trying to act innocent of all eavesdropping.

 

“Ori, did you get all that,” Kili whispered to the scribe who had the best memory for words and speeches of the company.

 

He nodded his head.

 

Of course he did.

 

Good, they needed to remember everything.

 

This Bard was turning into a goldmine of romance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little update.  
> Needless to say the lyrics to The King Beneath the Mountain are not mine but come from The Hobbit by J.R.R.Tolkien :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one-shot for the moment. I might add to it later or leave it. I really hoped you enjoy it. :)


End file.
